


The End of the Argument

by Snacky



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, F/M, No happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snacky/pseuds/Snacky
Summary: Fëanor and Nerdanel and an argument that will never be won.
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Kudos: 14





	The End of the Argument

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dialux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dialux/gifts).



> Originally posted on Tumblr. For Dialux for this prompt: 
> 
> _Write a ~300 word argument scene for them_

This is an old argument. They've had it hundreds — thousands — of times over the years. Sometimes it's just a few words of disagreement. Sometimes it's a entire day and night of bickering. Sometimes it's shouts and curses and accusations flying for weeks on end. Sometimes it ends with one of them storming out of the house and not returning for days. Sometimes it ends with them falling into bed — because that has always been the best way for them to end their arguments.

It only ends. It never resolves. It's an argument that will never be over, and sometimes it picks up again, where they left off last time, and sometimes it seems to be a brand new fight that turns into the same old battle.

They fight over their sons, what is right, what is best for them, how to treat with them, how to raise them and let them go, how to make them happy, how to keep them safe.

An argument that Nerdanel thought all parents must have, from time to time. 

An argument that today is different from all the other times.

"I am their mother. They are not just _your_ sons," she insists. 

There's no fire in her words, though. Her voice is weary because this argument is so ancient. It's weary because she thinks, for the first time, this argument is one she will lose.

Fëanáro has all the fire, and she thinks that all the passion she ever had has been subsumed by him, after all these years. For the first time, she understands Míriel, just a little bit. She understands — better than anyone — the exhaustion that comes from living with, comes from loving Fëanáro.

"I am their father. They have sworn themselves to me." The words are simple, and from anyone else the statement would sound cold, but not from her husband. Fire is in every word he utters, every breath he takes. It's in his eyes, when he stares at her, and she sees the silent plea before he speaks.

"You are sworn to me as well. You are my wife."

She shakes her head, and she knows then that she — that he — that the argument — is lost. "I have not sworn your oath. I never shall."


End file.
